


Five Things That Didn’t Happen To, Because Of, In Spite Of, Or In The Proximity Of Rose Tyler

by KickAir 8P (KickAir8P)



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe, Canon Disabled Character, Chromatic Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-01
Updated: 2006-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KickAir8P/pseuds/KickAir%208P
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five unrelated AU ficlets. I just wrote 'em to get 'em out of my head while I was working on something else. Some angst, some joy, some humor, and some OMG-I-can't-believe-she-wrote-that!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. " .....which connection I should cut."

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, I'm just playing in the BBC's sandbox. Apologies to both Peter Gabriel and Jethro Tull for using lines from their songs for ficlet titles.
> 
> Thanks to my long-suffering beta tiggymalvern -- aside from all the regular beta-things, she's the one who made sure all the British voices aren't worse than Rose trying to sound Scottish.

The wheezing stopped, the shuddering died with a little thump, and the Doctor flicked one final switch. "All right -- London, 2006!"

"You're sure this time?"

A few taps on the keyboard, and "Unless the BBC site's showing the wrong date, yep."

"He's still alive?"

He gave her his biggest grin, a magician's flourish at the screen, and a gleeful "Come and take a look!"

It was showing the website for "SunTyler, Ltd -- Serving Your Solar Power Needs Since 1992!" She tapped the link that said "Meet the Family!", pulling up a page that touted the wisdom of trusting a small family business to install and maintain a home's solar system. The picture showed her dad, gone bald except for a ginger ruff, standing next to her mum, who looked exactly as she had the last time Rose had been home. Seated in front of them were their **_three_** children -- Allen, with the dark hair that Jackie and Rose both dyed blond, Suzy, with her father's coloring, and Rose herself, wearing shorter hair and a suit.

"Oh my God -- I've got a brother and sister! And I took A-levels -- look at those grades! It says I'm going to business school next term!"

"I told you -- everything changes because he's alive." He wasn't looking at her any more, his eyes locked grimly on the screen.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"This time, this place, this is where you belong. You walk out that door now, you become part of this reality. You remember growing up with your family, you get your education, you spend your life working with your dad and making the world a better place."

"You...you're saying I have to leave."

"No, I'm not. But you never grew up on a council estate with your widowed mother. You never worked at Henricks. You never met me. You walk out that door, you remember who you're **_supposed_** to be -- but you forget who you are now."

"But how? If I never met you, how did we save my dad?"

"That's why it's called a paradox."

"But.....if I stay with you?"

"Then we stay away from Earth during your potential lifespan, about a century..." he looked her up and down, "...no, more like a hundred and twenty years." He looked her in the eye. "You can never come back, never see your family again, never see your world again. As of today, Rose Tyler disappears. They search for you, they put up posters of you, and eventually, they mourn you."

The way he was looking at her.....she turned away, started pacing the walkway. "At least they won't blame Mickey this time. I probably never even met him. Wait, do I have a boyfriend?"

"Can't tell. That's not the sort of thing that makes the news or the company website, and you don't keep a blog."

"They might blame someone."

"They usually do. There won't be any evidence, so I doubt they'll ever convict anybody. Still....."

"Still."

Maybe not much in the way of bedtime stories or picnics, but there was a lifetime of memories with her dad out there -- a lifetime with her **_family_** , and how weird was that? Were she and her sister best mates? Did she tease her little brother? With three kids and a husband, had her mum finally learned to cook?

Had she taught her how to do manicures, calling Rose her little artiste? Had they snuggled up together on the cold nights when they couldn't afford to turn the heat up? Did she get a red bicycle when she was twelve, the one Mum swore came from Santa?

All she had to do was walk out the TARDIS doors, and she'd have the life she'd always wanted. All she had to do was forget why she'd wanted it. Forget the man who made sure she could have it.

But if she didn't go, she'd put her family through the same hell her Mum had gone through that year. She couldn't let that happen again.....even if it hadn't happened the first time, now. She couldn't let them lose their Rose.....who, right now, didn't really exist yet. Wouldn't ever, unless she walked out that door, just wiping out who she was now. Dying was one thing, but this? It would be like she never existed, erased and replaced.

Oh, God. It couldn't come down to that, could it? That she was just too scared to do the right thing?

But what **_was_** the right thing? What made **_that_** Rose worth more than she was.....oh, yeah, a whole family who'd miss her, and all those solar-powered houses she'd help set up. That Rose wasn't an unemployed shop girl. But, would that Rose have walked into a time machine? Would that Rose have swung in to save the Doctor from the Nestene? Would that Rose have run in front of an oncoming car to push her dad out of the way?

Maybe. There was no way to tell, unless she walked through the door. The door that was right in front of her, and when had she walked down the ramp? Maybe Suzy or Allen would go into the family business someday, to do the work their missing sister wasn't there to do anymore. Maybe someday her parents would accept that she was gone.

Oh, God. She'd made up her mind, hadn't she?

Her hands were flat on the door. She put her forehead against it, closed her eyes, and whispered, "Bye."

Then she pushed away, turned her back on it, and ran up the ramp. "Let's get out of here," she said, not looking at him. "Anywhere, okay?"

"Okay."

The wheezing started, the TARDIS shuddered, and the Doctor started flicking switches.


	2. .....those who choose to stay.....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita-Anne Smith looked up and saw the moon.

Rita-Anne Smith looked up and saw the moon.

Bigger than she remembered, clearer, nested among glowing shreds of cloud. The stars around it sparkled like jewels, and not just diamonds -- emeralds and rubies and sapphires, amethysts and citrines. Had she ever seen the sky like this?

For a while she didn't really notice anything else, lost in the wonder of her regained sight. Then she realized she was cold, that she was standing outside the gates of the Battersea Power Station, that the station was burning, and she was hearing screams. She turned and ran.

It was a dream, of course. She could see again, there was no pain in her joints, and she was cold -- she'd probably kicked off her covers. She'd enjoy it while it lasted -- it was a clear night, London looked lovely under the streetlights, she was running like she hadn't since she was a little girl, clanking with every step.....clanking? Without breaking stride she looked down -- she was wearing metal boots. She stopped, brought her hands up, and found them in gauntlets -- she was wearing armor, how strange.

Where was she, and where was she going? Home? With that thought a computer graphic sprang up in front of her, showing where she was and the route home. So she was wearing a space suit of some kind? What had she eaten last night to give her dreams like this?!?

When she got there she found her front door open. Had someone broken in? What if they were still in the house? But she was wearing armor, so she was undoubtedly a match for any burglar.

She went in, and felt something catch at her feet. Not a burglar, just the front stairs carpet, which she'd just shredded. She bent down -- easily, so easily! -- and gathered it up. At least now Ricky wouldn't have to mend it. It looked shabbier than the last time she saw it. She went out and stuffed it in the wheelie bin, and then headed for the kitchen.

Everything looked older, more worn. She plugged the kettle in, went into the living room, and sat down on the couch, which creaked alarmingly. Turning on the telly was a bit of a nuisance with the gauntlets, but she managed. There was some kind of news broadcast on, showing Battersea Power Station half on fire. There were more people in armor scattered unmoving on the ground, and some with blankets over their shoulders grouped round an ambulance. The words scrolling across the bottom of the screen said "not robots," and "Cybermen," and "encased brains," and now one of them was being interviewed, his panicky hand-waving at odds with the electronic monotone of his voice.....

"Oh my God," Rita-Anne said. In the same electronic voice.

She got up and went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and saw the same face she'd seen on the screen. Not armor. Not a dream. She felt no pain because this wasn't her body, wasn't a body at all. She was cold because.....she was cold because.....

She found herself in the kitchen, making tea. Mug, teabag, water, sugar, milk, and there was a mug of tea in her metal hands, which she couldn't drink. She was still cold, but her hands were warm. Another graphic popped up, this one showing the temperature of the tea, the temperature of the room, and the variance between them. She stood there and the numbers changed, the tea growing cold. She could still hear the telly, going on about circulating chemical baths, oxygen replenishment, inhibitor codes......

The numbers kept dropping until the variance read zero.

Then they started climbing again, the temperature of the room, the temperature of the tea, the temperature of her skin.....sunlight, she was standing in sunlight, coming through the kitchen window. She dumped the tea and rinsed out the mug. New hands, new strength -- she couldn't feel the water, but she could handle china without breaking it. Would she rust? Best not to find out, so she dried her hands carefully and went back into the living room.

There was an interview going on, a Cyberperson standing next to a balding, ginger-haired man. The caption underneath read "Jackie and Peter Tyler."

"We're entitled to compensation, and I don't just mean money! Look at me, look at what they've done!" he -- no **_she_** \-- said in that flat monotone. "'Irreversible,' they're telling us -- well, Cybus Industries has the resources to do a hell of a lot better job than this, and I mean to see them do it. There's research going on, or should be, things like taste and touch, and when it comes through we've got first dibs!"

"Thank you, Jackie Tyler." The newswoman turned to the screen. "One of the most common complaints is a constant feeling of cold, caused by the lower operating temperature of the cyber-body. In a few minutes we'll be broadcasting a code which is specifically targeted to suppress this alone, so stay tuned! This is Sarah Jane Smith, reporting from Battersea."

There was a knock at the door. She went down, opened it, and there stood the same man she'd just seen on the telly. "You're Peter Tyler."

"Oh," he said, looking a little stunned. "Yes, yes I am. I'm sorry, I'm looking for Mrs. Smith, Ricky's gran."

"I'm Rita-Anne Smith. Please come in. Would you like some tea?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"It's not any trouble, and from what I've seen you could use it."

"I suppose I could, at that. Thank you."

He followed her to the kitchen, where she plugged the kettle in again. "Ricky asked me to stop by and make sure you were.....uhm.....all right."

"Better in some ways than others. On the one hand, I can see perfectly. On the other, I'm afraid I won't be joining you for tea."

"Oh, that's right! Ricky mentioned you were.....that is....."

"The word is 'blind,' Mister Tyler."

"Oh, call me Pete, please."

"Then you must call me Rita-Anne." She extended her hand to him, and he took it, without a second's hesitation.

"Thank you, Rita-Anne."

She poured the tea and handed him the mug, getting out the sugar and milk. "I think we should take this into the living room. I haven't broken the couch yet, but I don't think I want to risk one of these chairs." Once they were situated, she steeled herself to ask the next question. "So, why hasn't Ricky come himself?"

"He's fine, he hasn't been.....that is....." He cleared his throat and started again. "He's going to be away for a few weeks, and he didn't want you to worry."

"Since you haven't answered my question, I can't say that I'm reassured. Is he mixed up in this business somehow?"

"There's not much I can say to that, ma'am -- Rita-Anne. We knew Lumic was up to something, we tried to....." He broke off again.

"I heard the news. This happened to about sixteen thousand people. And whatever deactivated the emotional inhibitors, about four thousand of.....us.....survived it."

"Uh, yes, well, that was Ricky and his crew. I'm sorry, I understand it was quite a shock."

"That's putting it mildly. Speaking of which, how is your wife?"

"As well as can be expected, thanks -- better, actually. Keeping focused on what can be done about all this."

"I noticed. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know. More tea?"

"I'm afraid I have to be getting back," he said, getting up. "Please call me if there's anything you need."

"I will. Let me see you to the door." When she came back to the living room she turned the TV back on -- with any luck she'd catch that suppression code they'd mentioned. There was an American on, "Henry Van Statton, VP Cybus Industries, NA Division" by the caption, talking about "restoring vocal individuality," and trying to sound sympathetic and supportive without committing to anything.

He was cut off by an announcer who said the cold-sensitivity suppression code would be up next and that anyone unwilling to allow a download could still receive it either by phone or by watching it on the screen, although they'd have to disable their security protocols first. She wondered how she was supposed to do that, and the procedure popped up in front of her.

The TV showed a series of numbers -- all she did was look at them, and suddenly she didn't feel cold any more. The announcer came back on, reminded everyone to reinstitute their security protocols, and then went to a commercial. She read the instructions and felt it click back into place.

She was just taking the milk, sugar, and Pete's mug back to the kitchen when the phone rang. She picked it up and said "Smith residence."

"This is Jackie Tyler," said an electronic voice. "Is this Rita-Anne Smith?"

"Yes, it is." In her head, she sounded the way she used to, and each time she spoke was a bit of a shock. But Jackie Tyler's voice was different, even different from how she'd sounded on the telly less than an hour ago. Still electronic, still male, but not that flat, emotionless drone.

"Pete thinks you need to rest up a bit, but I know better -- just a few hours' downtime's all we need, we don't really get tired anymore. If you want to come over, we can use all the help we can get." She sounded like a Londoner, born and bred. How'd they put it on the news, "restoring vocal individuality"?

"I would. What's the address?"

"Better if I have Pete turn around and get you -- people aren't used to seeing us on the street, there've been some attacks."

"I'll be waiting." Waiting to start her new life, with new opportunities, chances to use her new strength, her sight. She'd paid a terrible price for it, after all -- might as well make the best of it.

"Thanks. Ta!" The line clicked off before she could answer.

She picked up her purse and went out the door. She'd wait for her ride on the street, and if anyone objected she'd give them a piece of her mind.


	3. .....and baby makes four?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tegan's planet loomed large in the viewscreen, and the rough reed fibers dug into his palms as he twisted his belt in his hands. Varsh's belt, and if any of the stories of an afterlife were true, he'd be seeing his brother soon.

"Now I'll never know if I was right."

Tegan's planet loomed large in the viewscreen, and the rough reed fibers dug into his palms as he twisted his belt in his hands. Varsh's belt, and if any of the stories of an afterlife were true, he'd be seeing his brother soon.

Soon, soon.....now? The screen was fading, and the walls, and there was a sound -- the TARDIS! Materializing **_around_** him?!?

But it wasn't the TARDIS, was it? Similar, but the room was larger and gold-colored, with smaller roundels and sweeping supports. A blonde woman and a man with tousled brown hair were frantically working the controls. The man looked up at him and shouted "Adric, grab onto something! Hang on!"

The Doctor? Adric grabbed one of the support pillars and hung on tight, just before the TARDIS gave an enormous shudder and gravity reversed for a split second.

Then everything was still.

"Adric?"

"I'm fine."

"Rose? Jack?"

The blonde woman said "I'm okay!" From behind the time rotor another man leaned out. "Good news, we're alive. Bad news, looks like we killed a brontosaurus, and we're now buried in the carcass at a hundred and four degree angle. But since everything in the area just got blown to hell anyway, I don't think we've done any temporal damage."

"Well, I've made worse landings."

"Really?"

"Mmmmmmmm -- no."

Adric let go of the pillar. "Doctor?"

The man came over, looking Adric up and down with an almost-familiar smile. The cricket outfit was gone, replaced by a brown suit with thin, TARDIS-blue stripes. "Yes, it's me."

"You've regenerated again. And the TARDIS looks.....how long has it been?"

"Over a century."

"What happened to Nyssa and Tegan?"

"Tegan went home. Nyssa got off on Terminus, to help find a cure for Lazar's Disease."

"The planet?"

"The time-warp dropped you back 65 million years, when there was already supposed to be a massive disaster that killed off the dominant life forms and allowed the rise of humanity. Everybody thought it was a meteor impact -- turns out it was that freighter."

Adric's blood ran cold. "I solved the logic codes that kept the controls locked. If that Cyberman hadn't shot the panel, I would've diverted the ship."

"Good thing you didn't!" The Doctor took him by the shoulders, searching Adric's face with his eyes. "I'm sorry it took this long. I had to get factory replacements for several of the TARDIS's components before attempting a maneuver this precise. Not to mention bending a few of the Laws of Time just a bit."

"Well, there's that saying of Tegan's: 'Better late than never.'"

"You want to go see her?"

"Can we?"

"Of course -- she'll be overjoyed to see you alive! Jack, Rose! London, 1985!"

"Okay, but if we get there still smelling of broiled bronto guts, don't blame me."


	4. Metal Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting in the dirt with his back against the TARDIS, he had his legs drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and his forehead on his knees.

It was the next morning when Sarah Jane heard the sound of the TARDIS materializing, coming from the tiny back yard of her terrace. " 'It's not goodbye' he says -- trust him to go and prove it!" she muttered with a smile, plugging in the kettle. She went out of the back door and yes, there was the TARDIS, right in the patch of dirt that would've been a flower bed if she had the slightest inclination to garden. She leaned against the doorjamb and waited.

And waited.

There was a faint sound from the other side of it. Maybe just settling.....if the TARDIS actually settled. "Hello?" she called, as she went around. "Doctor?"

Sitting in the dirt with his back against the TARDIS, he had his legs drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and his forehead on his knees.

"Oh God, what happened?" she said, dropping down next to him.

"Cybermen. Mickey was captured and converted, and then Rose tried to....." He shook his head, leaned into her, and sobbed.

She hugged him close. Oh, God. Mickey Smith -- would he have even gone if she hadn't encouraged him? And Rose, that brave child.....she'd asked Sarah Jane to come with them. If she had, could she have made a difference? Or would she now be another wound in the Doctor's soul?

He was winding down now, breathing in little hiccups. She brought his head up, cupped his face in her hands, and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. He reached up and did the same for her. "Come inside," she said, "I was just making some tea."

K-9 rolled in while she was getting out the mugs, which led to some half-hearted ear-scratching. When she put the tea down in front of him he was holding a disk, a CD or DVD, and turning it over in his hands. She sat across from him and stirred some milk and sugar into hers. "What's that?"

He put the disk down and picked up his tea, drinking it straight. "A message from Rose to her mum, an 'In the Event Of' kind of thing. Mickey never made one for his. She lives on the Roberts Estate. Rose.....made me promise to tell her." He looked down at their little robot dog. "Too far to walk. What do you think, K-9? Rent a car, or just call a cab?"

"I'll drive you."

"Didn't you have other things to do today?"

"Nothing that can't wait. Come on."

He was quiet on the drive over, looking at the disk he kept turning over in his hands. They got to the Roberts Estate, and she was getting out of the car when he asked her to wait.

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to."

"I'm not letting you go up there alone."

"Sarah Jane Smith, well-known reporter for the Sunday Times, tomorrow when there are questions to be answered they won't find me. If you go up there with me, they **_will_** find you."

"And you think that'll stop me?"

He closed his eyes, and she could see too many centuries in that too-young face. "I need to do this alone. Please." He turned away and walked up the stairs, to tell a woman that her estranged son was dead. And Sarah Jane got back in the car.

She got out her PDA and tried to go through her emails. She was still staring at the first one twenty minutes later when he came back. "Rose's mum lives on the Powell Estate -- turn right when we get to the street, it's on the left."

When they got there, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her with the barest a ghost of a smile. "This won't take long. You'd better leave the car running." Then he was up the stairs again, disc in hand.

It couldn't have been two minutes before she heard a woman's enraged screams, and glass breaking, and footsteps running down the stairs. She looked up in time to see him jump off the last landing and tumble to the ground, scrambling to get back to the car. The instant he was in, something hit the boot and shattered -- she slammed her foot down on the gas and had them out of there in seconds.

His face was scratched, he was bleeding from a knot on his forehead, and he was wet down the front, like someone had thrown a mug of tea in his face. "What did she hit you with?!?"

"A lamp. It's not as bad..." he touched the knot and winced, "...as it looks."

His shirt was dry by the time they got back to her place. She plugged the kettle in, and left him sitting at the kitchen table with K-9 at his feet while she got her first-aid kit from the bathroom. He was quiet while she worked, cleaning off the blood and dabbing on the antiseptic cream. Then she put a mug of tea in front of him and went back to put the kit away.

She was heading to the kitchen again when she heard the back door close softly. By the time he had the TARDIS doors open she was right behind him. When he turned, she was already around him and up the ramp.

"Sarah Jane---" he said, following her.

"I'm coming."

"No, you're not."

"Unless you're going to physically throw me out of this TARDIS, then yes, I am."

"What about your life here? You said---"

"I said that yesterday, I've hardly had time to get started. I'm coming."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll die!" he shouted.

"I'll die anyway," she said calmly. "And eventually, so will you."

He turned away from her. "It's not the same."

"No, it's not. But I can count -- you're on your tenth lifetime, now. And if I recall correctly, you get twelve -- no, thirteen. For a Time Lord, how old does that make you? My age?"

For a moment he just stood there, gripping the railing, the padding Rose had taped there squeaking softly under his hands. Then he laughed, and turned back to her, and spun her about in his arms. "My Sarah Jane! Pack a bag! Call the dog in! Where to?"

"Somewhere sunny," she said, going to the door.

"Chula's got sun. Chula's got nanogenes. You'll like Chula."

"K-9!" she called.

"Mistress?"

"Come on, we're going!"

"Coming, Mistress!" he replied, trundling through her still-open back door. She didn't go back to shut it. When K-9 was inside, she closed the TARDIS doors and followed him up the ramp. "So, what are nanogenes?"

The Doctor grinned at her. "You'll find out!"


	5. The French Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smidge over two and a half centuries into a regeneration that he needed to make last seven hundred and fifty years, and seven hundred and fifty the next one, and seven hundred and fifty the next one, and seven hundred and fifty the last one, before finding the wreck of an unknown ship, in a timeframe at least a decade wide, two and a half galaxies away, in the Dagmar Cluster. Piece of cake.

He looked in the rear-view mirror of the rental car, examining his face carefully. What would a human see him as, late thirties, early forties? The same face, but not quite. He ran his fingers through his hair, and at least that was the same -- well, maybe a little duller. And it might be time for a trim. A smidge over two and a half centuries into a regeneration that he needed to make last seven hundred and fifty years, and seven hundred and fifty the next one, and seven hundred and fifty the next one, and seven hundred and fifty the last one, before finding the wreck of an unknown ship, in a timeframe at least a decade wide, two and a half galaxies away, in the Dagmar Cluster. Piece of cake.

It felt good to be back in England again. He'd stayed away the last few decades, not wanting to cross himself too closely. It had been tempting, though, especially in 1941 -- he could've snuck into the TARDIS and just hid in the back for a few weeks till events caught up. It probably would've worked, but if it hadn't.....the risk was too great. So here he was, walking the "slow path", as Reinette had put it, living out his latest exile. Exile was easier to bear, he'd found, when freely chosen.

But the fight with the Krillitanes had been a couple of weeks ago now -- maybe Sarah Jane would be happy to see him again. Only one way to find out, so he started up the path to her little terrace.

He was just about to knock when the door opened and there she was, looking exactly as he'd seen her last time, beautiful and.....annoyed? "You're late!" she said.

"I am? All right, I suppose I am. Late for what?"

" 'Late for what', he says. Rose has been absolutely frantic. We've had personals going in practically every newspaper on the planet for the past week, and I'll wager you haven't seen one of them. What were you thinking? 'Oh, it's been a few centuries since I saw Sarah Jane Smith, maybe I'll pop by'? " She started rummaging around in her purse.

"Well, yes, actually -- wait, **_Rose?!?_** "

"Yes, Rose. You remember Rose, don't you? Bottle blonde, ridiculously young, never gives up? She said she activated the recall program -- Emergency Program One? -- so they could meet you here instead of three thousand years out. They waited a month before she even started looking for it, and she's been terrified she made the wrong decision. What did you do, forget the date you set it to?" With a satisfied sound she extracted her cell phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons.

"I....." didn't think she'd think of that. Understandable -- he'd mainly been worried about getting there before she ripped open the console again. ".....thought it was next week."

"Well, it wasn't." She handed him the cell phone just as the ringing stopped. "Hi, Sarah. Anything new?" Rose said.

He took a deep breath. "Hullo, Rose." He pulled the phone away from his ear at her triumphant shout.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments also welcome at [kickair8p.dreamwidth.org/28754.html](http://kickair8p.dreamwidth.org/28754.html)


End file.
